


For Angels to Fly

by Aylarah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 18:30:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylarah/pseuds/Aylarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus always knew that Scorpius Malfoy was an angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Angels to Fly

Scorpius Malfoy was an angel. With his pale, flawless skin and gorgeous, white-blond hair, his perfect looks and graceful manner, how could he not be? Albus Potter didn’t know how he came to be on Earth; all he knew was that wherever God was, he must be pretty annoyed that one of his most beautiful creatures was missing from heaven. That Scorpius was his.

Every single day, Albus thanks whoever has deemed it right that Scorpius fall in love with him, that he should get to spend every day with this magnificent being. He just looks so breathtaking lying against the satin bedspread, so amazingly, wonderfully pure, hair fanned out against the pillow, big grey eyes gazing lovingly into Albus’.

“I trust you,” he whispers.

Albus has to bite his lip to keep a tear from falling at the sight in front of him. What had he done to be so blessed? He presses a gentle, lingering kiss on the soft, plump lips of the body beneath him, letting himself relax for a moment and aligning their bodies. He moans as Scorpius presses up against him, creating a delicious sensation that makes him want to forget the evening’s plans completely and just take Scorpius right then and there.

But whilst he might want that, it wouldn’t be fair on the boy beneath him. Albus got to try something new last week, so Scorpius wants to try something new this week. Taking most of his weight back off of the angel, Albus brushes a stray strand of hair from Scorpius’ face.

“You’re sure you’re ready?” he asks.

Scorpius nods. “I’m more than ready. I’m safe, I’m loved, and I’m with you. It’ll be perfect.”

Albus beams and strokes the other boy’s cheek, kissing the lips again. He would live like this, if he could, permanently attached to his angel, breath mingling and passing from one to the other. He moves his hand lower, to the creamy flesh that makes up Scorpius’ neck. His other hand moves to join the first. Gently, he squeezes; feels Scorpius try to gasp, a look of rapture on his face; breaths getting shallower.

He feels so blessed that Scorpius trusts him enough to try this; feels so honoured and touched that he gets to wield this sort of power over something so immaculate. That Scorpius loves him this much.

He remembers the first time he ever saw Scorpius. It was his first day at Hogwarts, on the platform getting ready to catch the train. He knew instantly that Scorpius wasn’t an ordinary person; he looked too pure, too perfect. His hair shone in the sun and it was all Albus could do not to fall to his knees in wonder.

Albus never did get over the wonder that they’d become friends at all. After all, their families certainly weren’t on fantastic terms and they’d been in separate houses – Albus a Slytherin, Scorpius a Ravenclaw. And Scorpius was beautiful… ever so beautiful. There was never a person so kind, so gentle, so generous as the boy Albus loved, that every day they spent together just confirmed in Albus’ mind that the other boy was an angel. There was no other explanation.

Their first night together had been so sweet, so wonderful. They’d shared a picnic by the lake in the Hogwarts’ grounds near the start of their seventh year, and made love beneath the stars; Scorpius’ face in their final moments of climax shining with adoration and amazement. Albus had never seen anything more beautiful. Scorpius never knew, but after he’d fallen asleep, Albus had cried. It had just been that perfect.

He thinks of all the things they could do together. It doesn’t matter if their families never reconcile, they’ve got the rest of their lives to spend as much time with each other as they possibly can. He pictures the places they’ll travel to, the people they’ll visit. Maybe even one day they’ll start a family. He’d like that – two, maybe three adorable children playing in the garden, as Scorpius cradles a baby against his chest. It wouldn’t matter that they’d have to be adopted. It would still be perfect.

Pictures the day they’ll get married. He doesn’t care where it’s legal, whether it’s a muggle or a magical ceremony. All he’ll care about is looking Scorpius in the eye and saying “I do,” slipping the ring onto his finger, taking him home and carrying him across the threshold. Thanking God in front of anyone and everyone who’ll listen that he was given Scorpius. Letting everyone know exactly how much he loves him.

He smiles down at the other boy as his thoughts bring him back to the present. As soon as he can buy a ring, he’ll propose. God, Scorpius looks so serene, so perfect, almost like a statue carved by some genius Greek artist that time forgot the name of. Just like a statue… so calm, so still.

Still…

Albus gasps and tears his hands away from the boy’s throat, eyes scanning Scorpius’ face and torso quickly, madly. There’s no movement.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

This can’t be happening. This can’t happen.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

It was just meant to be a simple restriction of breath, heightening pleasure for the rest of the body. Albus would take his hands away and Scorpius would be slightly breathless, but happy, and fine.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

God isn’t allowed to take angels back. That’s not how things work. Not his angel. Not Scorpius.

No…

No…

His hair still fans out against the pillow. His face is still serene; eyes wide, loving, trusting.

He’s still perfect.

Still an angel.

He’s gone home.

 

“It’s too cold outside  
For angels to fly  
An angel will die” ~ A Team, Ed Sheeran.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2011 HP Darkfest on LJ. Prompt: Breathplay goes wrong - dead wrong.


End file.
